One year ago today we celebrated the life of Florence❤️❤️❤️
Through a broken heart this is what I was able to cobble together from her extraordinary life well lived and shared with the many who were there and for the many more who couldn’t be there (and for those since who have asked me to possibly share, with typos and all, today feels like the right time to remember her this way…

❤️ I’m so proud of her, Love truly won out! ❤️

Celebration of Life ~ NY

Thank you everyone for being here and thank you Ron, number 1 son, as his mom would say, for hosting this Celebration of Life for your mom. Really perfect energy.

Forgive me I will need to read most of what I have to share as I don’t share the same fearlessness of public speaking that Florence did…

Dearly beloved, It seems a bit cliché sometimes but then I realized it is so appropriate…Florence loved every single one of us here, dearly. And her capacity for Love was more then anyone I ever knew.

Now you will see some Hawaiian themed items around here today, just as we had on the beach here in August and on the beach in Seattle in October. Hawaii and Maui particularly were a huge part of our lives and our hearts. We spent a lot of time there in the 24 years we were together. So I have these fresh Hawaiian leis and some other little decorative items and even some sweet treats that Florence brought back from our last trip there in April. One of the many things we loved was the beauty of the Hawaiian culture and people. Aloha means so many things but simply it means both hello and goodbye…which feels appropriate today…In August with family on the beaches of Long Beach and in October in Seattle with family and friends on the beaches of Golden Gardens we cast out a lei with some of Florence’s ashes in a traditional send off. As per her wishes. Her final wish was for her ashes to be in Maui waters with the whales, the dolphins and the sea turtles that she loved so much. That will be completed in the not to distant future.

This heart I am holding is a gift she received from a dear friend on her 75th birthday this year in Maui. So I found that this would be the perfect talking feather like item I could find to hold while speaking of Florence. As I told the grandkids it is Gramence’s (that was Florence’s grandma name) or Florence’s heart…perfect… so you can hold Florence’s heart while speaking of her.

So We gather here today out of love and sadness but also celebration of our dear Florence, our dear Gramence – she was many things to many people, she was a loving partner, a mother, a grandmother, a singer, a performer, a teacher, a confidant, a colleague,, a friend…she was an incredibly loving person and fantastically joy filled and funny. And she loved to laugh!! A beautiful soul and a beautiful Angel that walked this earth plane for 75 years.

We are going to miss her tremendously. And though there is a giant hole in, and a huge gap to fill in our hearts and our lives let’s take a little bit of comfort from all the memories and the love and joys that will live on in us. And to know that though she has left us from the physical world she is still around us and in us through the spiritual world.

So, how do you wrap up the incredible person she was and the impact she had in a few minutes, a few paragraphs? you can’t but I will try too… And please forgive me if I bounce around bit as I have tried to consolidate a tremendously wide ranging life.

So she had an incredible range of talents and attributes and was an extremely creative person with many outlets to share her gifts with the world…singer, dancer, model, writer, poet, teacher, performer, healer, Angel channel, photographer and much more.

There was much she loved about life but, trying again to boil it down, I think her two major loves in life were…People, particularly her family, her friends and ultimately her community. Her second love was singing and performing. Both were a major part of her life.

She brought joy to so many through her singing and performing.

Straight out of high school in Florida she came back to NY where she had been born and began pursuing her childhood dream of singing, dancing, acting and performing. Working and living in the East Village during the 60’s.

Then after many years she made her way out to and ultimately laid down roots here on Long Island and raised her family with everything she had. She loved being a mother. And loved being a grandmother!!

During that time she gave birth to two sons Ron and Chris who she loved dearly. Mothered many and Loved and nurtured many more. And her adopted son by choice, as she put it, Ed held a special place in her life and her heart.

An activist for good from the personal level to societal level with equal passion Florence would help any one in need.

She touched so many people in a positive way we’re still learning about all the people that she had a positive impact on in this world. Of course we know firsthand how special she was, ultimately her biggest gift was touching our hearts and our souls in a loving and beautiful way.
She taught in the school systems, first via her company The Balloon & Bubble Gum company and then through the the Human Connections Institute teaching better ways for kids to connect and to communicate, feel love and be empowered. While working at the Human Connections Institute as a workshop facilitator for many years she developed the Warm Fuzzy workshop around her creation the Warm Fuzzy, which I believe still continues in some form to this day in the school systems on Long Island.

She was one of the Women at the forefront of working and raising a family.
She had to fight through a lot to win the right to a career and to pursue what brought her joy even though many in society including some family weren’t ready for it. Ultimately she was proudly part of the women’s and human rights movements.

She was actively part of the school system pta and such and many times advocated not just for her own but others she found in need.

She created tons of inspirational products via her company Conscious Concepts that she created for inspirational products… such as the Official hug pillow and shirts and mugs, Inner Child dolls, Expect Miracles products, Believing Is Seeing products, Angel bumber stickers, the light at the end of the tunnel is not a freight train Keychain flashlight, Warm Fuzzies, etc etc etc.

She wrote and directed plays and performances.

Later she was proudly part of the creation of the Long Beach writers group that she then participated in and enjoyed for many years, and which continues on strong as ever, but, with one less voice.

Here is what one member said of her that couldn’t be here today…

Florence was a unique woman who made us all like her right away.
I met her at one of my earliest LB Writers Circle classes, but she had been a member since the circle had been founded.
I was startled, but charmed, when she began to sing one of her stories, rather than just read it.
I didn’t expect that because I hadn’t seen it done before, but I was definitely impressed. I would have loved to do that myself, but I had neither the voice nor the courage. But Florence certainly, did. The lady could write and sing. A multi-talented woman.
She was sitting right next to me that Monday, too many years ago, but I did a lot of smiling during the session because of her.

And so with the advent of the internet of course she created in the new medium…
First we started YourAngels.com where we provided our Angel Readings and Energy Healing work the old fashioned way, in person, but also via the new technologies like email and instant messaging.
Then the eFlorence.net blog was created…e for Everything Florence, where she could share all aspects of her creative self, activist self and foodie.
So naturally …FreshOffThePalate.com food blog came next,
AND then came social media…that kind of merged all these things…

In 2012 Hurricane Sandy sadly and abruptly took her long time house and family home, and then the ensuing nightmare of FEMA and the insurance companies was brutal and shocking and ultimately worse then the hurricane itself…social media became an outlet for sharing experiences and venting but also for helping each other and others that were going through similar. Or for those down the line who suffered flooding in other places around the country on what to expect and how to respond. One group was called Floodie Buddies. She became part of so many support and activist groups I’m still uncovering some!! It was all Soo Florence, how can I help someone else have maybe just a little less of a hard time then I?

She was always willing to help, always wanting to help, she could be counted on anytime day or night

She just beamed love and light and laughter and joy into the world, through tough times and good times always looking around to bring as many with her as she could.

Now when I said before that she was an Angel, does that mean she was perfect? Yes!!, she would learn from the Angels and no, she was in human form, so imperfect is perfection here. However she was always a spiritual being having a human experience, as she believed we all are. So, being in human form she went through all the challenges and struggles and good times and tough times that we all do. And though much of her adult life was filled with physical pain and disability and the challenges that come with that, she still always strove to be a better person.

When she saw or felt something she could improve upon she would strive to do better and if she didn’t know how, she would seek out learning more, or guidance and help from others so that she could evolve. All to the betterment of her self, her family, her friends and ultimately her community and society. Yes, the world is better because she worked to be better and she achieved that it in many ways. It was to the extent that she became a life counselor herself thru her healing work and Angel channeling and helped many others. Still though always looking to see how she could improve personally and in her relationships so she could be more fulfilled, offer more to others and by that example that others might take her lead.

Her creativity was sometimes sparked by the tough times…

For example, in her 40s while she was suffering through a tough divorce, she reached out and began a healing process that included some unfortunate forgotten childhood traumas. But in that process she discovered she had yet another talent…writing and write write write she did. Thru the discovery and healing process she wrote prose and poetry and short pieces and long pieces. She later compiled some of them into a book called Thorns Have Roses – Poems of Pain, Prose of Promise. Some became songs, that she then later worked on creating an album, The Promise, both are on the table in back. She later started working on a follow up book, More Roses, Less Thorns but we never did get it into finished book form. You’ll find in the back in her hand written notes that are now typed up, about what was to ultimately be a trilogy.

This is one of the many projects I will have over the next period of my life…sifting through the many creative endeavors and projects of hers. Most all projects we worked on together and it was always my honor.

In the end she truly believed that we wouldn’t be the people we are today without our experiences in life, and that we choose many if not most of them, the good and the bad, to create the best opportunity to become the people we wish to be in this life.

So, jumping a bit here… She also loved to travel the world, see new places and meet new people. Get new and different perspectives on life.

She was a foodie who loved to create for family and friends and try new things any chance she got, and then again share. nom nom.

She had the unique ability to make tough situations seem not so tough and could turn a good time into a great time!! Every day was a chance for a celebration, no matter what life threw at her.

Looking back and having discussed recently, in our 24 years together and over her entire lifetime she decided she had very few regrets. In our time together we did most everything that we could physically and financially do. Even with all the curveballs the universe and life threw at us we attempted to do as many of the things we wanted to do as we could. And I know she did this throughout her life. I know she wants all of you to live this way as well in your life times. Try to live each day as if it might be your last. That way you will have fewer regrets when it’s all said and done and it’s your time to go home.

As a creative person she always had multiple projects going either physically and/or in her mind. Forever in the creative energy flow. Always concerned that there wasn’t enough time or energy to accomplish all the tasks she was given. Fear that she would die with her music in her or with her words in her and that she would not accomplish everything she wanted to accomplish. Again she was always going to have ideas flowing through her.

But I came to realize in the hospital that Florence’s real role in this world, her real job and reason for being here was to spread the energy of Love and energy of Light around this planet.

Today we honor her for a job well done! she came to this world with many talents to share, ultimately they all really were simply vehicles for spreading love, joy and light through touching peoples hearts and souls in the numerous special ways she did.

Please remember that Florence, Gramence like any other loved one that has passed from this world as we know it, has only transformed back into the spiritual world that we all come from, she has simply returned home. And she is still with us in our hearts and all around us. We can call upon her anytime we wish, we can converse with her anytime we want, just as if she were still right here with us, because in reality she is, in spirit form.

Seattle

Ok, Ron suggested that maybe I mention just a little bit about Seattle and why she loved it, since most here know her NY story but maybe not her Seattle story…

Well, she fell in love with Seattle after we first started spending time there 18 years ago. And though I was born there I hadn’t been back as an adult until that time either. It spoke to our hearts immediately.

She loved the artistic vibe of the city and all the arts that are a part of the fabric of Seattle and are on display everywhere year round

Loved all the festivals and the low key nature of things there. The kindness of people.

Now this is a big one…The Thai food!! So many great restaurants. And as we discovered… a wonderful Thai community. Now we both had Thai food for the first time in the first week that we met, and were blown away by the spices and flavors. We then had Thai food at least once a week on average for all the years we were together. So we were in thai food heaven there. We made some great friends as well over the years with owners and members of the staffs of the many places we visited frequently.

For Florence sharing a meal was an event and when cooked and shared with kindness and Love she couldn’t help but befriend those who created and delivered it. And some even became like family.

Several owners and staff members of our favorite thai restaurants came to mourn and celebrate her there.

She loved food shopping in Seattle. There are many great markets, and she had her 5,6,7 favorites.

And we both loved the milder weather, less extremes, more beauty. And she never tired of the rain. Spring there is just amazing with all the long months of blooming flowers!!

And the place Golden Gardens, were we held her Celebration of Life…we watched so many sunsets there and shared so many memories. When times were tough we’d go there, when times were good we’d go there. The place holds a lot of our memories and energies.

She really loved the Seattle area and it gave her a place to rest and enjoy when other places in her life were tumultuous.

Being a social activist, Seattle was a community of like social minds.

One unique thing was when I was preparing the Celebration for her there I received emails from several friends of which a couple of them who couldn’t attend but said ‘thanks so much for giving us the opportunity to celebrate her” the response just surprised me and clearly showed how much they thought of her.

Some of her long time NY friends would frequently comment, they missed her being here, but could always see and feel the joy that she had and the peaceful energy of her while spending time in Seattle. It was kind of a common respite for us both, her from the strong and often tough and shifting energy of NY and me from the busy and changing energy of California. It is a beautiful place in the world…and we loved our time together there.

So, I could go on and on about my dear Florence. We were together for 24 years, brought together by an incredible experience of fate and then inseparable. And yet some days it feels like we just met and it’s impossible that she is already gone. But we did consciously know we were lucky and we did live and love…greatly. And with great daily gratitude. We hope you all do as well.

My Love, Florence, Gramence…we Love you, we miss you and you live in our hearts forever, until we see each other again…❤️❤️❤️

Like this:

I went to the doctor, who is new to me as I am to her and a good partner, who really listens, take notes, puts them into my file and quietly thinks over symptoms and what works and doesn’t for my specific needs.

She takes her time with me and makes gentle suggestions; combining her expertise of medicine and my expertise of my own being,

After quietly thinking over a really rotten adverse reaction to a mega antibiotic, which I told her felt like a bomb going off inside and into raging, doubled-over, can’t-tell-if you-want-to-stay-or-go pain, she hit upon a missing med for my most complete treatment and it was Bingo! I-could-have-had-a-V8! moment. I’d forgotten it myself.

Much to her credit, she did not give me the usual. sotto voce, ‘that never happens’ or ‘I’ve never seen this with anyone.’ She just truly wanted to get things right for moi, instead of the patented ‘one size fits all’ medical malaise/laze

Today, I can tell you, she got it right and health care really became care.

I told her that when I feel better, I’ll sing her 3 choruses of Rodgers and Hammerstein”s “Getting To Know You.” It took her a moment then she smiled.

I am her horse of a different color.

On the way home, after picking up my prescription, Tom and I stopped in to a new favorite Thai restaurant to get food into my stomach to take the first dosage the next stage meds. They do a really good dish called “Family Rice.”

It is a fragrant, non spicy plate of fresh vegetables consisting of broccoli, cabbage, carrots, zucchini, thin soft slices of chicken, pork and tiny Thai sausage and an occasional shrimp. So easy on the tummy, it coated the spot.

On the way out, we saw a young woman whose sweatshirt read on both back and front, “People Make Me Sick.”

Having been wearing a face mask to avoid giving or receiving germs for the last month, not to mention the twitstormtrooper regime acts of violence and rape of every decency and civility, in our country, I could totally relate.

We told her we loved her shirt. Shared lots of smiles. I just loved this gal.

On the way home, we stopped in at Trader Joe’s for stomach coating yogurt and rolled oats, on which I’m living.

The gal at the checkout stand was a tall, beautiful, tattooed, blue and magenta haired, happy camper.

“Hi! How are you doing today?” she asked.

I was a little grumpy. Some meds make you a little cranky. (understatement. They really should come with a sign you pin to your lapel; cautioning, “Run for your life. Run away, run away.”)

Odd little things had gone weirdly awry in the day, from frustrating to painful; like the credit card machine at the pharmacy ejecting and rejecting my brand new credit card…4 times!!!! For no good reason anyone could figure out, which made me have to stand longer than was my body could handle kindly and not being able to find a close enough parking space where I could schlepp bent over from car to door and there were more horrible scare tactics from the dick measuring and nation pissing content which are too overwhelming for me to hear with no skin on.

My too ready reply of, “Oh, just hanging in there!” stopped at the tip of my tongue as I noticed this effervescent woman was working a the register with one arm; doing all the things a two armed person would be doing…and capably and cheerfully.

My oral reply changed perspective as I womaned-up to an authentic positive answer: “It’s mostly a great day with a few sprinkles of weird little handleable challenges.”

She smiled and rang me up…yeah, you guessed it. The card machine and my card did their lil dance, requiring another manager. (Maybe it’s a need for connection and care thing in the electronic world). She laughed when I told her this is a sample of the weirdness stuff today. It all got happily solved and she ran out from behind the counter waving my receipt into my hand, while I was turning to leave the store. She zipped somewhere behind me and caught up to me at the door with a bouquet of daffodils and placed them in my shopping bag, saying, “Here! These are for you. Have a happier, less weird day!”

And the surprised-out-of-my-sox me, thanked her in astonishment and told her she was the light in the day and “Keep shining your light. You have no idea how you brightened my entire week!”

That little bouquet of yellow petals sits in a slender vase in my kitchen where I take meds, pray they’ll work and cry in pain as the pit storm hits.

One flower out the bright yellow bunch is pale cream with a red hearted petal in the center.

This one armed angel was more capable, with greater heart than many. Just being her best self gave me several gifts this day: perspective shift, heart, grace, humor, joy, unexpected kindness …hope that healing will be better than I can imagine, better than the best I can imagine for myself and our world.

Yes, hearts are all around us.

I feel grateful for goodness…earth angels who hold me in light, check in and call just to say, “I love you,” share some a laugh or two and connect just because they want to, kindly care, and I’m grateful for the celestials who complete this loving circle of light around me.

It is the receiving part of the circle of balance that is harder sometimes than giving.

I notice all and appreciate you all with my own well-armed heart.

So, I got to practice receiving and it’s in the surprises that show up where I am most stopped in my tracks.

We were lucky enough to have reasonable tickets pop up at the last minute, and got to go to the theatre last evening to see Hamilton, before the cast and crew pack up and leave town. This historic show based in the time of forming this country is as relevant to today, in this time of breaking apart the very work of those. immigrants all, forefathers, who gave their lives so all these years later, we could have lives lived in freedom; with rights, safety and happiness. Yes, that piece always gets me. They wrote ‘happiness’ into purposes and rights for us!

Here in this century, is a groundbreaking production of American theatre history. A broadway musical in a new form of tale and tune; to an au courant beat and lyric expression. The words from the experiences of long ago ring out to the audience too true in today. The tapestry of us all being beings is woven across time. One can be suspended and upended by the depth and height of experiences then and relevancy now.
The incredible foresight and guts to fight for and build a new nation from a melting pot of many differences from other places in the world; the courage to place one’s life on the line for the the highest Good and betterment of ALL against tyranny of one ruling unendingly over many, birthed for us the life we’ve been privileged to enjoy, with all its human frailties and faults.

One of the lines sung by George Washington to Alexander Hamilton, after the war ends, says this: “Winning is easy; governing is harder.”
They both go on to acknowledge the facts still needing tending, as they are trying to form a good government by the people, for the people, and sing:

“The constitution’s a mess.
So, it needs amendments.
Its’s full of contradictions.
So is independence.”

And King George, in conceding the loss of the war, watches from afar with shock and awful prescience the initial steps this toddler America takes and fairly bristles with pleasure and portent at the preposterousness of a democracy of presidents and rights of people. He hisses, “They’ll tear each other to pieces!”

We, in the audience, shudder for a second and glance around at each other; knowing that today’s political wreckage, and climate of fear mongering among us and abuse of power is living proof that tidbit is true.

For, as we entered the beautiful 90 year old grand dame Paramount Theatre, gathering to take our seats inside her gracefull sculptured inner sanctum, gazing at the immense ‘way back machine’ stage set for our journey into history, along with ushers passing out programs and helping theatre goers to their seat rows, we noticed a dog moving up and down the aisles. My first thought at this oddity was, ‘ must be a service dog…looking for its master?’ The full house was packed and busy with excited energy of anticipation and readying for a long and life changing show.

Then we noticed there was one man in navy blue walking up and down the aisle with the dog; allowing the animal to smell each row on either side. A dog! In the theatre? Unheard of!

Then came the dawn!

This was a service dog of a different calling…a bomb sniffing dog!

We and our seat mates all whispered as if we were trapped in a plane cabin afraid to disturb a bomb or bomber. I froze in fear. I could feel my heart stop and my muscles pull in to tense. We all looked around for the exits. Were we close or too far away, God Forbid?

Two people hadn’t yet arrived to fill our row and their seats were in the upright position. In my head, I wanted us all to stand up and check under our seats for ticking devices or c-4 packs. But I was, frankly afraid to say that or look myself… for fear of finding.

My mind wandered back to while I waited outside the theatre for my dear Tom to park the car. Voices rang out, telling people to have their bags/purses open and ready to be inspected at the doors.
“No back packs or large handbags or satchels will be permitted into the theatre!”

I watched a lady go by me with a very large satchel bag. She didn’t come back out. A gal with a backpack on. She never even took it off her back, never mind open it. She never came back out. A couple of guys with back packs went in and didn’t come back out.

What happened to them? Were their bags confiscated? These seemingly nosy small questions previously allowed to slip away, now seemed important.

We’d been to the show last month and this hand searching through purses felt out of place and more rock concert like; a looking for bottles of liquid imbibing, weed or bringing in food than genteel theatre.
Then, like every tiny neon flash, those thoughts got shrugged off too and lost in the excitement of seeing the show.

Sometimes, I’m super insightful and sometimes it takes several acts of God to get through and move me off the dime.

This night though, was Checkpoint Charlie heightened.

Tonight, with the addition of bomb sniffing dogs (there had been none last month when we first saw this production) I was petrified, wondering how or if we could get out. Could we leave the theatre right now? Screw the show; save our lives!? It didn’t look good. We’d have to trust the dogs.

I joked, as I do when I’m nervous or trying to lighten a heavy experience for folks. “Good thing I didn’t put that summer sausage in my handbag!” heh heh. Anxious smiles. Nervous bits of laughter.
The gal one seat over from me looks wide eyed and we assured ourselves everything was all right. In my mind, I’m thinking of my grandchildren being told that Gramence and Grampy at least died doing something they loved. That’s not such a terrible thing, right?

I really want to get out of this place. Nice present, Tom. Ohhh, Screw this, it’s just a show; just money. No one will die for giving up either. Breathe. Breathe. All
is well. All is well. Be still and know. Angels surround.

Wait! Is this how we’re sposed to die? In the theatre!? Oh, that is too rich. ‘Not funny, you guys up there!’ I think really loudly to my too many theatre friends, family and colleagues already gone to that big theatre in the sky before me. My outrage and fear melt into more of a Let Go and Let God thing I’ve been practicing.

I sort of choose faith. And moreover, authenticity. I’m sick of trying to be strong; bucking people up, I lean into Tom and whisper, “I’m really scared.”
And the orchestra begins, lights dim on us audience and come up onstage as the players begin to fret their hours upon the stage and we are in the nuts and bolts; slings and arrows of the founding of our nation. The booms we heath r are just the vocal ones from the singers’ lyrics representing canons of of war and awareness of insights.

We all lived.

This morning, as I write this, I have a gigantic energy hangover and the first thing I see on facebook is about the verbal abuse and mean misunderstanding being slammed at the survivor kids from most recent massacre of children in schools, (Isn’t that a sad thing to say…’most recent massacre?!’) These survivor kids won’t stay silent or go away in their courageous public grief. They have demands for change for public safety. Imagine the chutzpah of that! People who lost people in nightclubs, movie theatres, concerts, temples and churches want that too. I want that too.

It dawns on me this dawn, that the announcement of ‘no large satchels or bags’ allowed in the theatre last nite was to keep automatic rifles used in all the other massacres, out!
I am in shock! I am naive, even in my own good heart and character stance for sane removal of these weapons of war meant for maximum killing and optimal flesh damage. I want them out of and unavailable in civilian life.

How dare our representative not only allow the, they support the makers and lobbyists and taking away our safety for their own profit!

I’m outraged at the intrusion into schools and places of worship and the safe pastimes of our country. I’m angry that we had to be put in a position of fear and fragility; doing nothing more than leaving the house to see a show.

And I’m fully aware that what I’m feeling in the aftermath of, bad enough, threatening, that hat these kids went through was a million times worse in living though a bloodbath of friends dead and dying on the battlefield of their…SCHOOL!!!

Damn straight, they want these killing machines gone. So do I!

Responsible sportsmen know the sanity of this. Vets know and deserve to come home feeling safe to the country they fought to keep safe from that carnage, and not have to be in the middle of weapons of war anymore. Not to flinch at backfires or read of one massacre after another by some white dude with an automatic weapon not meant for civilian life.
Last evening, I got a whiff of that insecurity in a place once never thought of where weapons of any kind might be commonplace.

A whiff.

No one got mangled or died. But the threat was obviously there in a normally safe place.

Who knows? Was there a threat turned in to the theatre that we didn’t know about? It is, after all, a very political show.

Weapons of war in civil life are already so commonplace, and, ghastly, actually supported by many for profit, prejudice or posturing, that we, the people, are subject to far worse than King George ever could have imagined…. but now that I’ve said that, maybe his words were more pronouncement than at the time petty. “They’ll tear each other to pieces.”

Who could have known with what flesh tearing, life obliterating weaponry that would be done…or where sanctuaries of common safety and decency in our communities would be destroyed in the name of greed, racism and treason.

Back to the future lived last night in the theatre.

People in our row talked about the signs of our times…..the notice posted on a cinema front door, “no weapons allowed inside”..the shocking little dark gun in a circle with a line drawn through it, ‘no guns’ sign on the entrance glass door to The Cheesecake Factory!

We were all shocked, trying to process these losses of civility and safety and depths of the sewer to which America has descended; the erosion of morals; the acceptance of the degradation in our country.
This shock will never wear off. As uncomfortable as this heavy cloak is to bear and wear, we did not have to run for our lives like the school kids did and yet the ominous threat of the possibility was too real…because those with the power to make needed change, are wanton and willing…for their own personal profit!

I’ve said too many times, I can’t understand….This or that depth of terrible experience and pain.
But now I have a very valuable thing, in addition to my moral compass, within me forever,….a whiff.

In Hamilton, when those young men from across the sea, who became our forefathers took to the battle field, they sing; “We’re finallly on the field. We’ve had quite a run.
Immigrants get the job done!”
A roar goes up and fist rise, woot woot, in the air every night from the audience members, as if we are right there on the battle field too; because we are….again… and every blessed, or damned, one of us immigrants!

As is said, in this historic production, after the founders fight for and hammer out tooth and nail, a creation of a better life; a better, safer country for highest Good for ALL:
“Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.
We fought for these ideals and we shouldn’t settle for less.
These are wise words.”

We, the, people, descendants of immigrants ALL, must not settle for less either.

Rise up.
Speak up.
Stand together
Honor what was gifted us.
Do not accept the unacceptable.
It is not commonplace.

I think of the young people standing up to those in leadership positions who won’t lead and are only interested in being well fed and not rocking their monied boat.
The founders were young too.
‘Young scrappy and hungry.’

Treason and death are inside our gates.
That is unacceptable.
Words from “Hamilton” that were true then and are true now:
“There is a battle for our nation’s soul.”

And, after last night’s scare, instead of living in fear, I choose to focus on another line, another perspective, from the women characters of that time period, who were also activists; I heard with different ears, connecting them from then and now which give me another way of looking at the wreckage going on around us, that I despair of seeing:

“Look around. Look around at how lucky we are to be alive now. History is happening in America and we just happen to be in the greatest country in the world.”

A ray of the light of hope opens in my heart and liquid light of pride and the love I have for our country and those who have fought to bring her into being and raise her well, slips down my cheeks.

How can we heal her?
Can we heal her?
Yes, we can.
Yes, we will.
Together.

and my dear Tom, of good humor, pokes his head in to lift my spirits with his ’60’s soul and wit; sees what i’m working on and through and quips a line from another Broadway period show, “Hair”: ” Believe in DOG!”

One day my daughter in law, Hope, called to tell me that the children’s school was having super hero week and, knowing how I love to go see my grands in their second natural habitat, she told me parents and grandparents could go and read the children a story in their classrooms. I’d read to their cousin, Benny’s, preschool class a while back and shared lots of bedtime stories with all of these beloveds, so she knew I had experience, heart and qualifications for the task proffered. Also, knowing my love of school activities & being involved in the children’s lives by showing up to their events, she asked if I would like to do this fun sounding job. Would I!?! And how!

‘Please, Let them know that’s a resounding, Yes!’

Date and time set, my mind started whirling. Hmm what to read? Level. Subject. Time needed. I’d be reading to Selia’s 2nd grade class and Jack’s kindergarten. How long? It’s super hero week. Which books? I checked out the artwork projects in the school hallway to get the drift. Did the adult readers dress up? As specific characters children would know? I’m no Batman. I’m just a grandmother with gumption and a love of children.

With it being short notice (no months or ability to make a full costume. And Superstorm Sandy had sadly taken all my stock of Halloween and stage costumes from various shows I’d done over my career. It was next week! and on further investigation, I found out it really wasn’t necessary….the focus was on simply reading.

Still….how to make it fun for the children? What books did I have left intact and unsodden by the flood from which I was still struggling to recover? If so, were any of them specifically about super heroes? Hmmm. No books on the totally lost first floor, survived. I looked through the 2nd floor, where what I could put upstairs on the day of preparation for the coming storm, I’d done as best I could. What a wreck to wade through! ”This would take a super power!’ I thought.

The few survivors I could find were old dusty ones from their Dad’s childhood. I kept searching until, lo and behold, I found a slim unopened Amazon book mailer among the piles of pillows, blankets and boxes. Upon opening, I found what must’ve been kept for Christmas or Birthday gift giving. I’d always shopped well ahead of holidays and celebrations; keeping an eye out for sales! and stacked away the gifts until the fun days arrived. Friends fondly called this yearly clutter, ‘Gramence’s store.’

Staring up at me was a crisp glossy white-jacketed book entitled, “The Invisible String.” It had a drawing on it of 2 children and a heart on a piece of string flying above them. I opened and read a most wonderful story of children and loss and how ultimately no matter how far away we all may go or be, we are always connected by love in our hearts.

It was packed with feelings that every human has and I remembered purchasing this gift for the two of my grandchildren who lived through the night of the terror of the giant storm with 100 miles per hour wind whipping and whining in the night; rocking the 7 story building in which we sheltered; hunkering down in the dark with flashlites when the power went out in the whole town and the ocean roared down every street; smashing into houses and buildings.

People got uprooted and friends and families got separated..in the storm and after. Many people had to find other places to live, away from their houses that got damaged in the flood. Kids couldn’t go to their regular schools. They too were flooded and wrecked. Everyone who knew everyone got scattered.

I wiped my eyes touched with tears as I finished reading and wondered if, as lovely as this book about hearts always being connected no matter how far away people can go; the next room, across the world or out of it when they die, might be too heavy for the elementary children of East School of Long Beach New York. It had just gotten repaired and opened again and was filling up with students who were returning to their home area as it healed. Yet no matter what other book I found, this slim volume tugged at my heartstrings and its simplicity and comforting truth gave me the courage to choose it.

Now to tie in the fun of the theme. Super Heroes with Super Powers! I borrowed a short red cape, I’d given Hope for a prior Halloween Super Woman costume, because she is a super Mom & woman. I tied it around my neck, scrunchied my hair up in two pony tails; standing out, one on either side of the top of my head, wore red clogs, blue slacks and a bright turquoise, long sleeve top. And off I went to school!

Arriving and reporting for duty at the principal’s office, I announced myself ready for heroic reading to class. They cracked up at the ‘costume!’ and loved it! Calling the teacher, for time to read and getting the ok, off I went; cape flying in the hallway breeze. Kids on errands turning like tops, agog with the sight. Who was this superhero?!

As I knocked on the door, a teacher invited me in, introduced me to the children while another got their students seated in a semi-circle on the carpet of the story-time area of the room; a small chair awaited me at the front of this arc of bright-eyed, bushy-tailed kiddles who chorused “Good morning Gramence!”

I took my place and my grand daughter, Selia, took her special place for the visit, on a little chair next to me, as the privileged page turner.

After the exchange of the ‘hello chorus’ and book title introduction, I took a deep breath, centered and began….’Once upon a time…there were two little children who couldn’t sleep one night. ..who cried for their mother because she was so far away from them…in the living room! So, their Mom told her not-so-sleepy, sleepy heads about how many ways people can be far apart and still always be close with each other. The children in the story asked lots of questions and so did the boys and girls in my reading circle when the last page was turned.

What I thought might be possibly a tale too serious for young children, turned into fresh-scrubbed, upturned faces of thought, understanding and inventiveness of their own, as I answered the end-of-story curiosity. Selia was beaming from ear to ear; centered with me in the ‘stage-door-after-show-mob-scene’ on the reading carpet; holding the, now beloved, book up for her classmates to see up close and personal.

Questions, questions, oh, boy, did they have questions! Silly and serious. How far out into space can the invisible string go if you’re an astronaut? Does it work with pets? What about fish or turtles? Or Grandparents who live far way and only get to visit on your birthday?

One boy told us his grandfather had just died. Hearing that the invisible string could never be broken even when some one goes as far away as heaven, he was serious and seriously smiling when he approached me after the reading; adjusting the little yarmulke on his head; he nodded a tone of certainty that he and his grandpa were connected at their hearts. Looking all the world like he was a miniature Rabbi instructing me of his new knowledge; he was firm in repeating his new found positive clarity. Happy in his step, he strode back to his desk to inform his two friends. All three conversing on new insights.

At the moment before I left for my next class, a tiny, wisp of a girl who had sat at the edge of the carpet circle in complete silence, came up and whispered haltingly in my ear, “The hurricane… broke my house and… we had to move away. I miss it …and my doll and …kitty. My best friend next door had to move away too… I don’t know where she is. Do you think she remembers me? Does she have an invisible string? Do I?… Everything is gone… I’m very sad.” Visibly heavily burdened, she barely got out this confidence through tears rolling down her sweet cheeks. Answering her in gentle affirmative; telling her that they both had invisible strings from their hearts to each other and that ‘when she was missing her friend, her friend was probably missing her too,’ evoked one of the biggest hugs I’ve ever received! I enfolded her in my arms, thanked her for her brave sharing and good questions and told her that she and I now had an invisible string and that no matter how far away I was, I would always remember and think of her and that when I did, I’d send love through our special invisible string from my heart to hers…just like I do for Selia and her brothers, Jack and James and cousins, Sofia, Benny and Joey, when I go traveling.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught both teachers nodding and when I stood at the door to the hall, one said, “ Class, Let’s all thank Selia’s Gramence and say good bye!” and the other whispered to me, “Thank you. You have no idea what a positive breakthrough you created. That little girl lost everything in Superstorm Sandy. She and her small family evacuated to a shelter and have been displaced ever since. A shy girl to begin with, she hasn’t talked about any of the losses since. None of us has been able to get her to open up. Did she tell you?” I nodded.yes. “She rarely speaks. This was major. Thank you so much!”

As I waved goodbye and walked on air, down the hall from 2nd grade to kindergarten, I now knew why the Angels kept drawing me back to this book of choice… For this boy and this girl…and for the kids in a community where children had been scattered and were first returning to the homes, schools and safety from which a major devastation had wrenched them. My heart swelled with gratitude for the ‘super guidance.’

My grand son, Jack’s, kindergarten class was equally receptive and the children just hopped in on the reading of the last page with their own delightful additions as to who and what their invisible strings were attached.

Spontaneous happy hugs arose from one child’s assertion that hugs were also part of the whole equation and could be visible AND invisible; seen with your eyes… and stuffed in your pockets for when you went on vacation! Such were the super powers of super heroes like themselves.

What a day in my ‘still struggling to survive 3 years and counting, Superstorm Sandy aftermath, where not only possessions were ruined, but in the dealing with the wreckage of my own home and life, where they’d been no time or ability to even remember connection to beloved books, teaching and learning. Fun had faded to a too distant memory.

What a gift these children, this school, this daughter in law gave me… under the guise of helping out a school project; helping children, I got the gift of opening of my own heartstrings! Purposeful usefulness. Remembrance that, though, somewhat like that tentative little 2nd grade girl had felt, I too, had been storm lost; beaten by weather; stripped of home; bereft of friends being close; wondering if I’d ever see them again; tempest tossed by insurance crookedness and helping agencies hamstringing,’ which had narrowed me down to slim scope of ‘one-foot-in-front-of-the-other-recovery survival.’ This day, gave me back a gift of purpose renewed and clarity. I was still connected by my own invisible string to people I love and the work I have been given abilities to do which can enrich others.

We all can and do make positive differences and can be pleasantly surprised by that remembering when we get lost.

We are all worthy and we all have superpowers of our own, which we can choose to implement when need arises.

Children gave me back a clue in their response to a story.

I can now happily say: “My name is Gramence and one of my superpowers Is reading!” What are some of yours?

” If there are honey bees left after the destruction in this world, how can I not go on?”

by Florence Ondré, on a sunny September day, after North Carolina’s short-sighted mass killing of this life giving, beauteous species; this day before 9/11/16, when a solo honey bee visited a flower outside my door, like a lone fleeting angel visitation of Heaven on Earth.

A parable, written with loving observation whilst checking in to see if my three sons were ready in case hurricane Irene hit.

I have three sons.

One built his house of straw… a kind of dreamy artistic kid.

One of twigs- a positive kid, who always figured… ah, that’ll do it…the lawn is mowed…looks good from the front.

And one meticulously planned his construction; scouted the best from stone masons, got his building permits in order from the county, pronto; took out his trusty trowel and saw to the solidity of the foundation mortar as he built his two story brick colonial with double safety exits, taking as few chances as possible should the wolf storm his door or could gain entry.

I love a parade. It’s theatre on the move. Music, costumes and lighting by God.

Not considering myself particularly patriotic, it never ceases to amaze me each time that familiar lump in my throat arises; choking me with what I can only describe as pride. My heart beats a little faster to the beat of a marching band and strains of Sousa spring memories of my marching in parades and performing in concert with my Junior and Senior High School Bands.

I learned my roots in music there and I guess all those marching feet share the cadence of each note I heard and sing today. I march to first their drums and, ultimately, my own.

This morning I dragged out the 10 times magnifying glass and took a what everyone the sane world says you must do….a good look in a mirror!

Shock of shocks, the discovery was that I’d gone right past becoming my mother and straight to being my grandmother! …and every bushy, crazy looking, wild haired old woman I’d ever seen.

Yes, I was right up there on my own world list of wild haired women where I’d wondered, “how could she go out in public like that? good god, how could she live with those crazy ass eyebrows?”

There in the light of day, I stood aghast at my window, peering thru my eyeglasses to the magnifying mirror (yes I need both to see anything now) and viewed my own eyebrows gone awry.

Wasn’t it recently I’d tweezed the errant chin hairs which so cruelly and capriciously grow when and where they want? I took care of those little stubborn hard line, now thankfully white instead of dark colored bristles. I may not be able to see you but I feel you and out you go.

Then I moved the glass to my eyebrows and saw I had farm work to do.

Hairs had sprouted like gmo wheat fields from my upper eyelid to my brows. God, how could I go out in the world looking like a mad scientist!

Pluck pluck groom groom…gone gone. Whew.

And then I spied the brows themselves…. Hey! Wait a sec! Shouldn’t eyebrow hair be short? What karma had I been dealt overnite, with some leaning into the maginot line; lengthy enough to hang down over castle turrets; long and strong enough to be braided for princes to climb upon?

What had I done to become Andy Rooney or deserve curls gone wild every which way but loose?

Memories of women I’d known whose facial hair seemed to explode in odd directions on their aging faces floated to consciousness and I reached the terminal at the end of platform ‘why me?’ I had become them.

I wondered if my friends who spend tons of money on face creams, depilatories and spas had arrived at this plateau, unhaired, or had they just had more time and money to hide the inevitable? s

Some whispered the truth. Don’t tell me we are not all one.

Stow the baggage of judgement and surface ego on this trip called life. It’s simply a matter of arrival time. Just for today, I’m a bit dishevelled from that red eye.

Welcome to eFlorence!

Read. Think. Feel. Laugh.

Scroll down the lane. Take what you like and leave the rest. Enjoy!

Goals:
If my writing, photos, music, etc can give you pause for thought, a different perspective, a laugh or moment of peace, then it's all good. With so many creative souls out there, links to other positive thoughts and fun are my delight to share.

Haiku:
Share your own day in the Eastern haiku form of writing.
first line-5 syllables
second line-7 syllables
third line-5 syllables
It's fun/challenge to distill thoughts/your day into a haiku.
Add yours to mine.

Be a pebble in the Gratitude Pool:
Share your daily gratitude.
I find that, noticing one small thing to be grateful for surprises me enough to go on..feeling better.
On days where my gratitude might just be, "Can't find any." That's ok too. At least I looked into my gratitude satchel. That counts. Tomorrow I may find some. Reading others helps too.
Sharing, ripples positive energy out touching the world.